


Not Forgotten

by orphan_account



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M, Memories, Post Epilogue, Post-Mockingjay, katniss and peeta's book, katniss and peeta's daughter - Freeform, the book
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 19:51:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4450064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katniss and Peeta's daughter finds their book one day, and asks Katniss what it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Forgotten

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, this is my way of doing a post-Mockingjay 'fic without all the exhausting work. Please forgive any typos, Word keeps freezing mid spell-check and I'm too lazy to hunt down a grammar and spell checker just off the internet.

"Mom?"

"Did you find it?" I turn from the squirrel that I'm skinning to see Willow standing in the doorway, something large and square clutched to her chest. She looks guilty and doesn't have the knife that I asked her to get in her hands. 

"I didn't mean to snoop, but this was on the bedside table and I've never seen it before, and it has Dad's art in it, and I wanted to know what it was." Willow's words come out in a rush, and I suddenly realize what it is she's holding. She's holding the book, the one Peeta and I filled after the War, when we were broken and needed a way to remember. I set the squirrel down and rinse my hands, reaching out for the book.

I turn it open to the first page, running my hand over the image depicted there. Madge, in her Reaping Day best with a box of strawberries in her hands, a tiny smile just starting to curve at the edge of her lips. I sit down hard on the floor, and Willow creeps closer. 

"Mom...who was she?"

"Her name was Madge," I say simply, and I intend to leave it at that. Willow is only ten, she doesn't need to know everything, but I can't stop the words from flooding out. "She was my friend, one of my only friends in a time when I was more alone that I had ever been before. She liked strawberries and the color blue and mockingjays, and could make a jam that was so perfect that no jam in the Capitol could stand up to it. She died when the firebombs were dropped, and I still think about her whenever I pass where she used to live."

On the next page is Rue, rising up on her toes, her arms outstretched like a bird, and you can see her smile in her eyes rather than on her mouth. "She was Rue, and she died in the Hunger Games, and she was so, so young. Too young, in a world too cruel. She never would have survived, and I knew that, but I think I just forgot..." I have to close my eyes to keep from crying as I remember...the spear sticking from her chest, the way the blood turned her shirt red and my hands sticky, the way it bubbled at her lips and how still she was in my arms when she died. "She could fly through the trees like a bird and whistled like I can sing and loved the mockingjays just like Madge. She decided to trust me even though she had no real reason too."

Willow is on her knees now in front of me, and her eyes follow the paper as I turn the page. This time it's Effie, her hair golden and teased into a high beehive like style, her dress garish and clearly from the Capitol. "Effie was my Escort, and even though I didn't like her at first, she became my friend. She could turn almost any situation cheery and kept me grounded when I felt lost and loved makeup and fashion even when I thought it was stupid. I don't know what they did to her, but she was never the same, never the Effie that I knew."

The next page held Cinna, his arms full of fabric. "Cinna...He was also my friend, and the only one who really understood me in the Capitol. To them, I was almost a goddess. To him, I was a teenager. He could do beautiful things, work magic with silk and velvet and cotton, and together with my prep team he could make me look wonderful even when I wasn't. He died because he was the one who really started the fire burning."

Willow is beside me now, not touching me, but studying the pages closely. Finnick is on the next page, and Willow giggles when she sees him in only his underwear, in the silly pose with his hospital gown at his feet. "His name was Finnick, and he wasn't what I thought he would be. He was charming and smart and kind, and he made me like him even when I so desperately wanted not too. He loved Annie even more than he loved the sea, and that's saying something. And he would have loved his son, too, just as he would have loved you. He was killed by mutts, trying to help me end the War." The image of Finnick in the Mutt's claws, the way its teeth sank into his neck, the way he thrashed and gurgled as he was ripped apart...I don't think I'll ever forgot the smell that was his blood and the Mutt's lab-born scent.

At the next page, Willow gasps, and I know she can't help it. "These are your uncles, and they also died in the firebombs. I only met them a few times, but I liked them just the same. Emmer was the oldest, Rye the middle, and Peeta the youngest. Emmer was serious and gentle, Rye silly and saw the best in everything, and looked exactly like your brother, which is why we named your brother after him. They also died in the firebombs."

I flip through more pages, until I find one that sends tears trickling down my cheeks. Willow looks up at me, concerned. "Mom? Who...who was she?"

"My little duck. Her name was Primrose, and she was my little sister, and my baby, too. She was nervous and kind and had a healer's gentle hands, and loved her ugly cat Buttercup with all her heart, and just always wanted to help." There's an explosion behind my eyes, and I watch as Prim disappears behind a wall of fire. "She...I loved her with all my heart, but I couldn't protect her. Not in the end. She was only fourteen when she died. Only fourteen."

I'm full-on crying now, and Willow wraps her arms around me. I'm still stuttering out words, about random people. Johanna's bravery and recklessness. The kindness Darius and Lavinia showed me. The way that my prep team would fuss and how Boggs trusted me even though he had every reason not too, how Annie had sent me a letter and a picture of her and Finnick's son Owen, and how I had cried when I saw that Owen had Finnick's green eyes. How Gale and I used to be best friends, and how I still miss him sometimes, even though I mostly don't. How I even miss my mother, despite how she left me behind when Prim died. 

Eventually, I'm exhausted from crying and Willow is just as exhausted from listening to me cry and falls asleep on my shoulder. This is how Peeta finds us later. He scoops Willow into his arms and carries her to bed, then just as easily scoops up me. We curl up together like we did when we were teenagers, but instead of holding me, protecting me from the nightmares, he holds me at the rush of memories.

Finally, he flips open the book, turning it past pictures and stories and memories. "They're not forgotten, Katniss. That's what we made this book for. So they're not forgotten." He kisses my forehead, tells me he's going to go start dinner, and too come down when I'm ready. I stand up and pick up the book, but I hesitate before I slide it into it's rightful place. I pull a pencil from a drawer, open the book to a blank page, and carefully start writing. 

Deep in the meadow, under the willow  
A bed of grass, a soft green pillow  
Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes  
And when you awake, the sun will rise.

Here it's safe, here it's warm  
Here the daisies guard you from harm  
Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true  
Here is the place where I love you.

Deep in the meadow, hidden far away  
A cloak of leaves, A moonbeam ray,  
Forget your woes and let your troubles lay  
And when again it's morning, they'll wash away.

Here it's safe, here it's warm  
Here the daisies guard you from every harm  
Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true  
Here is the place where I love you. 

My sweet, beautiful children will never have to deal with memories like mine. And for that, I am grateful. I rebraid my hair, and slip quietly downstairs. The book lies open on the bed, waiting for someone to read it. It doesn't have to be hidden any longer.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I know that one of the older Mellark brothers was named Rye, but I don't know what the oldest one was named, and I can't find an answer anywhere, so I named him myself. For those wondering, "Emmer" is a type of grain.


End file.
